Mindful
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Mindful

Your Goddess has no Expiration Date

Photo by T. Chick McClure on Unsplash

I don’t know you but I feel entitled to tell you that I find a li’l fault in the story arc of your character. I feel entitled because you are a part of me and my Goddess like a wave is part of the ocean.

There you are, a real Goddess who, as I understand it, disowned her weak, pathetic mother so many years ago, (your words, not mine). In that estranged period, your Goddess was successful. I mean, look at you — all those things you accomplished. That’s no small feat. You make the rest of us Goddesses proud, girl. I give you a one-Goddess standing ovation.

Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

I know nil about you but I want to ask you to think back to your mother’s age when you divorced yourself from her. With my third-eye I see that being on or around the age you are now. Forty-something, you said? Yeah, forty-something!

The fault in your arc comes when you say that your expiry date is almost upon you. Oh Goddess, open your eyes. What are you talking about? There is no such expiry date!

YOUR GODDESS HAS NO EXPIRY DATE!

You’re heading in the wrong direction if you believe there is one.

And what’s more, you’ll be following in your mother’s exact footsteps if you continue because that is the beginning of the one flaw I see in your mother.

She believed there was an expiry date. The weight of that belief was the harbinger of her flaw.

Now that could have come about through a number of ways. But I’d bet that the pop culture of her generation is what made her feel less than enough and urged her to pass that message onto you.

Our generation has evolved — as is expected, and it is evolving even more as we speak.

You, with a few decades under your belt, know what great a role pop culture plays in the molding of women’s behavior and perception of themselves. Your mother didn’t know better and allowed her mind to be filled with wrong ideas.

Photo by Jed Villejo on Unsplash

I know nil about your mother, but I’m sure she cried often. She cried for you, for herself, for her sisters, and for the world she didn’t comprehend. And the reason you never saw her doing that is because she cried all those tears in silence, alone.

Women put their best face out to the world — it’s society’s prescribed norm. We women, whether we’ve procreated or not, are the mothers of the world, the nurturers, the fixers. We want to show society that we have it together, even when we don’t have it together. But in the comforts of our bedrooms, we cry every day.

We cry in shame and in frustration. We’re set in our beliefs that we cry alone; embarrassed to admit, especially to other women, that we do this. What we fail to realize is that our sisters too believe the same thing and are themselves crying in shame and frustration — alone.

You faulted and fought your mother about things you were too young to understand. Instinctively you knew her perception of who she was presenting as her true self to the world was not the person you knew lived in her. Only then, you didn’t have the smarts or the means to steer your mother back to the Goddess path she was forfeiting. Thus the disconnect.

What happened between you and her, happened. But now that lives only in your mind; in the past. Leave it there, Goddess. Embrace today.

Do you know that now, at age forty-something, you are at the ripe age for Miracles? And that at this moment you can start a real relationship with your Goddess-Mother?

You told me you never loved her but that in the three years that she’s been gone you’ve felt her presence. Seek her out, look for her Goddess. How? you ask. Look for her spirit.

If that feels too weird for you, go to Mary — yeah, THAT Mary, go talk to Mary.

Not a fan of THAT Mary? No problem, find yourself a Greek Goddess or a female avatar of your choice. Seek her out and begin a relationship with her. And please, claim your Goddess. There’s no better time to begin and there is no expiry date.

THANK YOU FOR READING TODAY. A FEW CLAPS, PLEASE, IF YOU AGREE. I Wish You Miracles, Selma

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